


Dried Tears and Notes Not Found

by sherlockheartless (reysxywalkers)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B is a mess, ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Cancer, Crying, F/M, M/M, Maybe fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-The Reichenbach Fall, Pre-The Sign of Three, There is death, as i am not a doctor, but not yet so i will add the warning later, but that part isnt real detailed, ghosts??, marys got cancer, no drugs, nothing too bad for the sherly, or self harm, sherlock is really sad, sherlock likes to throw things while looking for other things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1600988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reysxywalkers/pseuds/sherlockheartless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had written a note, and that note hadn't been found by the one it was intended for. In fact, it hadn't been found at all</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Note

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo I've been working on this one for a while. The chapters are pretty short, but that's because I stop them when I feel it's right to end the chapter. Please don't complain about them being short.
> 
> For my best friend KayLee, because she said I wouldn't post.

The note was still there. Sherlock had found it accidentally while looking for one of his old chemistry textbooks. It had fluttered from its hiding place while he was throwing things around. He thought John had found his note, so he picked up the small piece of stationery from the floor, expecting a random note from an experiment, or a bookmark from a textbook. He was so, so wrong. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sherlock was now sitting on the floor, having retreated into his mind palace after finding the note. Oblivious to the fact that there were tears streaming down his normally stoic face, all the emotions he held inside coming out at once. Mrs. Hudson found him 3 hours later, sitting in a pile of papers and books, clutching the note, with dried tears staining his cheeks. She attempted to rouse him, but he remained silent and still.

“Oh Sherlock…” She said softly, looking for a phone under all the rubbish. Giving up, she went downstairs to her phone and called John.

“Hello?” John answered tiredly. He had been at the clinic since early that morning and really just wanted to go home.

“John, dear? It’s Sherlock…” Mrs. Hudson said, her voice full of concern.

“What’s he done this time?”

“Well, its more that he’s not doing…”

“What do you-”

Mrs. Hudson cut him off. “He’s unresponsive.”

If that was all it is, John was relieved. “Oh don’t worry. He’s in his mind palace. That’s normal for him.”

“John, he’s been crying.”

“Sherlock? No…”

“Yes John. He’s sitting in a pile of stuff, holding a letter, I think.”

“A letter? Why would a letter make him, of all people, cry?”

“I don’t know, but you better come down, he might respond to you.”

“But I’m-”

“John.”

“Okay, okay...I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

“You better.” Mrs. Hudson hung up the phone and went back upstairs to see if Sherlock was still in the same state as before. He was, but there were fresh tears in his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

John sighed loudly when he got off the phone. It must have been a pretty upsetting letter to make Sherlock cry. Sherlock crying! John realised how concerned he actually was for his friend. He got up quickly from his desk at the clinic, made an excuse to go, and left for 221B.


	2. I Can't Tell You

Mrs. Hudson waited upstairs with Sherlock until she heard the door open and John start coming up the stairs. She rushed out to greet him.

“Oh John… I don’t know what’s gotten into him, he’s holding the paper so tightly, I haven’t got a look…”

“it’s alright Mrs. Hudson, I’m sure I can get him back to normal.” John smiled and continued past her into the flat, where he saw just what kind of state Sherlock was in.

Sherlock was a mess. His eyes were red and John could see the tear streaks on his face. He looked miserable, sitting in the pile of books and papers from earlier. “Sherlock…” John whispered.

Hearing John’s voice snapped Sherlock out of it. “John!” he almost yelled, jumping up and stuffing the note into his pocket of his dressing gown. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until next week!”

“Mrs. Hudson called me. She said you were crying and unresponsive.”

“I wasn’t crying!”

John gave the him a look. “Yes you were Sherlock. I can see the tears on your face.”

“Oh…”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, it - it’s nothing.” Sherlock averted his eyes.

“Come on Sherlock, its obviously something. You can tell me.”

“I can’t actually, I really can’t” The detective shifted uncomfortably.

“Sherlock, I’ve got to help you. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Sherlock sighed. “I can’t tell you, John. It doesn’t matter anyways. It’s something from a while ago.”

“It matters to me, Sherlock. I don’t want you to be upset. It makes me worry.”

“Don’t worry about me John, I’m fine.” Sherlock walked past John and went to his room. He didn’t know that the note had fallen from his pocket. John watched it fall and waited until he was sure Sherlock was gone before picking it up and reading it.

_John,_  
 _In the event that you may not see me for many years, I feel that I must make you aware of several things. First off, I am not completely devoid of emotion, as many may think._  
 _Second, (and I hope to convey this properly) I have strong emotions towards you. One might even call it love. No, it is love. I love you, John, and I hope that you may wait for my return, so that I can more effectively express this to you._  
 _The third and last thing I must tell you in this letter is that this is for you, it’s all for you, the deceit, the act, it’s all for you, to keep you safe, John._  
 _Please know that I am coming back to you._  
 _Sherlock Holmes_


	3. It Doesn't Matter

John blinked a couple times and reread the letter twice. Surely he had read it incorrectly! Upon the realisation that his eyes had not deceived him, John waded through the mess to his chair and sat down, putting the paper on the table next to him.

Sherlock though that he should destroy the letter, lest John find it at another time and read it. He dug through his bedside table for a box of matches and then his pocket for the letter. He checked his other pocket. It was in neither. Almost in a panic, Sherlock searched his room. He knew it wasn’t there, but he looked anyways. He looked at his door. Perhaps John hadn’t seen it. No… he had been watching him when he walked out, of course he had seen it. Sherlock sighed. He’d just have to go out and face John. The detective opened his door slowly and looked out. John was sitting in his chair, head in his hands. Sherlock sighed again, knowing it was his fault that John was upset. Cautiously, he left his room and walked toward the older man.

“John…” He said quietly, hoping John hadn’t heard him, but knowing he did.

John looked up at him, his expression one of sadness, concern, and stress. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I - I thought… I thought you would find it.” Sherlock looked away. “I thought you would find it and wait.”

John sighed. “You could have…” He shook his head. “You could have just told me.”

“I couldn’t John. I couldn’t…”

John looked at the letter on the table and sighed again.

“I should have known you didn’t find it, when you were with Mary when I came back, but I refused to think that…” Sherlock looked out the window. “I shouldn’t have even tried…” He turned to go back to his room. John stood up and grabbed his arm. Sherlock turned back.

“If I had known, this would be different, Sherlock. If you had told me on that phone call, everything would be different. It would be different in exactly the way you wanted it to be.” John looked Sherlock in the eyes. “You should have told me, I would have waited.”

Sherlock avoided John’s gaze, looking towards the floor. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re with Mary, and you’re happy.” He pulled his arm from John’s grasp and went back to his room. John watched him go, stressed from the conversation. 

John knew he’d have to go home soon, Mary would be wondering where he was. Without thinking, he took the letter off the table and brought it with him as he left.


	4. Avoidance

Sherlock knew John was gone before he had even left his room. He wished he was there, upstairs in his room, or in the kitchen, or even watching crap telly, just like before. Before, when John would drop everything to go on a case with him. Before, when Sherlock didn’t constantly wonder if John was doing okay, because he was right there with him. Before, when Sherlock still had a chance. He thought about calling John to talk about it, but he didn’t know what he would say.

John spent the next week carrying Sherlock’s note around with him. In his jacket pocket, in his trouser pocket, in his shirt pocket, if necessary. He couldn’t have Mary finding it laying around the flat, might spark some questions from her and others. He kept it with him, he read it over and over, still unsure what to do. He might hurt Sherlock more, and he didn’t want that to happen. He recalled their conversation many times during that week, wondering if there was anything else he could have said to Sherlock to help him feel better about the whole thing. He thought about going to see him, or at least calling him to talk about it, but he didn’t know what he would say. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After three weeks, both men were still putting off going to talk to the other with the excuse of not knowing how to go about the conversation. Mycroft sent Greg to see Sherlock and ask what was wrong. He hadn’t been taking cases and he wasn’t talking to anyone, turning away any client that came to the door. Greg regretted agreeing to go see him, as any attempt to elicit a response from the detective was short lived. Sherlock was curled up on the couch, facing the wall. The DI stood there for ten minutes talking at him, asking what was going on before giving up and leaving to report his nonexistent findings to Mycroft. 

Sherlock sat up as soon as the door was shut. Avoiding people was tedious work. Avoiding a phone call to John was even harder. He wanted desperately to talk to the man, but he couldn’t. He wondered what was going on that would prevent him from calling or stopping by. _Perhaps avoiding the conversation, like me_ , he thought. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

John knew Sherlock wouldn’t call. Sherlock didn’t call people. He knew he would be the one calling the other, but he wouldn’t call. He wouldn’t go see him. He knew he had to but he wouldn’t. He didn’t know how to bring it up. He spent a lot of time thinking about what to say when the conversation was no longer avoidable. He always drew a blank. 

Sherlock didn’t want to think about what he would say. He told himself he would think about it when John finally decided to come talk to him. He waited for John, and worried about him. What if something had come up with Mary, or John himself that was preventing him from contacting Sherlock. Sherlock tried not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a bit before chapter five, I have to do some editing and rewriting, and maybe even adding a chapter in between four and the original five, so please be patient :)


End file.
